


Only Human After All

by Impala_Chick



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Lydia Martin Friendship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Banter, Bows & Arrows, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Character Study, Crossover, F/M, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together, Ghost Hunters, Grief/Mourning, Jeeps, POV Allison Argent, POV Female Character, Rufus as the Hunter Mentor, Saving People Hunting Things, Slow Build, Stiles Has Nightmares, Touching, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: Lydia told her she wasn't going to escape the nogitsune, and Allison felt prepared for that. But then Scott died and she didn't, and she has to figure out how to keep on living. She turns to hunting, knowing it's something she can do far away from Beacon Hills. Her dad's friend Rufus takes her under his wing, and she lets her grief and anger fuel her missions. And then Stiles shows up at a ghost hunt, and Allison's perspective changes. He might not be such a bad partner, but what would it mean to keep him in her life?





	Only Human After All

**Author's Note:**

> Canon divergent from 3x23. What if Scott died instead of Allison? Please mind the tags. This story has been plaguing me since 2015 when I started it for Heroine BB, so I'm so glad the WIP Big Bang encouraged me to finish it. 
> 
> And check out the [AMAZING art by red_b_rackham](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471891)! They definitely inspired me and made me even more excited to finish this.

Allison wanted to be the kind of person who could support her friends during a difficult time. But the evening after Scott was killed, she didn’t feel strong or supportive or empathetic. Her rage boiled so deep within her that she could feel it in her bones, and she couldn’t concentrate on anything else. 

She padded to the bathroom and rubbed at her eyes. She noticed that she was still wearing the leggings. The leggings that had Scott’s blood on them. She hastily ripped them off, hopping on one foot to tug at the fabric because it caught on her ankle. She stuffed the leggings in the trash and went for her phone. 

She pressed the power button and the screen illuminated. It was seven p.m. The previous night had been a blur, a horrible nightmare, something she wished she could wake up from. Scott had gone down when it should have been her. Scott laid in her arms, his body still warm, for what seemed like an eternity. His face as all she could see whens he woke up that morning, but then her brain had tortuously started to supply her with other details. She remembered that Stiles couldn’t look anyone in the eye while tears streamed down his cheeks. Mrs. McCall had screamed and screamed and screamed. Deaton had leafed through every book in his office and they had all waited anxiously in the clinic until well past dawn. Scott never woke up. In retrospect, Lydia’s scream had been the final death knell. 

Allison got dressed as efficiently as possible. She put her hair up, and grabbed her bow. She almost made it to the door before her dad stopped her.

“Where are you going?” He asked her, his voice soft but his face scrunched up accusingly.

“The McCall’s,” she said bluntly, not in the mood for a conversation.

Her father didn’t say anything, but nodded in acquiescence and followed her out the door. They both got into her car without a word, her father behind the wheel.

They pulled into the McCall’s driveway behind Melissa’s car. Cars were lined up down the block. Neighbors were milling around outside awkwardly, and someone was walking up to the door with a large rectangular dish, most likely a casserole. Allison rolled her eyes and her dad glared at her. They slipped in through the side door and immediately greeted by Sheriff Stilinski. 

“She’s in the living room,” the Sheriff said, nodding towards the room. The sheriff continued to put away food in the kitchen and the sound of the dishes clattering filled the house. Her dad made his way over to where Melissa was hunched on the couch, her face so pale she looked like a ghost. But Allison wasn’t there to see Mrs. McCall. 

She walked upstairs to Scott’s room, and the door was hanging open. Isaac, Lydia and Stiles were all sitting on Scott’s bed, not talking. No one looked up when she swung open the door, but she was glad for that. She didn’t want to have to look at anyone or else she might back down from her plan. From the hallway, she swiftly pulled her bow from her back, drew an arrow, nocked it, and pointed it right at Stiles Stilinski’s heart. 

Lydia’s eyes tracked the arrow from its point all the way to Allison’s face, and she quickly stood up. 

“You don’t want to do that, Allison.” Lydia’s voice wavered and her hands shook as she reached out towards Allison’s shoulder.

“I really, really do.” Allison’s voice was ice cold; she barely recognized it. She reminded herself of her mother. She didn’t lower the arrow.

Allison’s eyes flicked towards Isaac, whose mouth was hanging open. He didn’t move, probably because he was so surprised. Allison guessed that he could have taken her down already if realized what was happening. She really didn’t want to have to shoot him too.

Stiles, though. Stiles stopped her with one glance. His puffy eyes never left hers, and his face was still damp from his tears. His shoulders slumped in defeat and his body language signaled that he had given up. That he _wanted_ Allison to do it. 

So she didn’t. He didn’t deserve to have anything he wanted. She still blamed him for letting the nogitsune get to him.

“You told me it was going to be me, Lydia. How could you be wrong?” Allison implored, her hands still steady where they held her bow. 

Lydia shook her head. “You know it doesn’t work like that. Scott jumped in the way. He took the sword in the chest so it wouldn’t be you. This wasn’t anyone’s fault.” 

“It’s my fault,” Stiles said weakly, as he scrubbed his face with shaking hands. Allison felt her resolve weaken as she lowered her bow. She wasn’t the only one who had lost Scott. Still, forgiveness was going to have to be earned, not given. She didn’t know if she could ever look at Stiles the same way again. 

“Scott knew the risks,” Isaac offered. Allison glared at him. 

“How can a true Alpha die?” Lydia whispered. No one answered.

\----

Allison frantically grabbed shirts and pants from her pile of clean laundry, and a couple jackets from her closet, and shoved all of her clothes into a green canvas duffel. She looked at her shoes, lined up at the bottom of her closet. She passed over her black pumps, sure she would probably never where such girly clothes again. What would be the point? She grabbed her tennis shoes and brown leather boots and stuffed those in the bag too. 

She scanned her room, the walls of which were bare after she had ripped down all of her decorations and photos. She had thrown everything unnecessary away. Where she was going, it would be better to leave old memories behind. She left her room, her duffel slung over her shoulder, confident that if someone walked in they would never know she had lived there. She grabbed some hair ties, a brush, and some toiletries from the bathroom. Then she stomped down the stairs, where her father was waiting for her.

“I’m ready,” was all she needed to say. Her dad hugged her, but Allison didn’t move to hug him back. 

“I’m not sure this is the best idea, but I think it might help you.” He started in on his obviously rehearsed father-daughter speech, but Allison had already made up her mind, and he wasn’t going to be able to stop her. Isn’t this what he had wanted, for her to be a leader? For her to decide things for herself? She was going to seek vengeance in her own way, far away from Beacon Hills. 

“...here’s some cash, I want you to call me when you are through. Rufus has promised to be your backup, should you need it. I think I’m going to try and do what I can for Melissa,” Chris finished. He stared at her, waiting for some kind of sign that she would be okay. Allison couldn’t think of anything to say to stave off his fears. Besides, she wasn’t going on this mission to be “okay” or to “find herself” or something equally naive. She was leaving because she couldn’t stand to be here one second longer.

Instead of attempting to explain, she just smiled thinly and mumbled “Thanks, Dad.” 

She had vampires to kill about an hour away. The vamps were all she was thinking about. It was all she _could_ think about. When she turned her thoughts away from tactics and blood and rage, she saw Scott’s smiling face.

After Allison had refused to consider staying in Beacon Hills, Chris had agreed to find her a hunt on the condition that she hunted alongside other hunters and not by herself. She was going to miss Scott’s funeral, but she didn’t want to go anyway. What could she possibly say? That she hated Lydia for predicting the wrong outcome? That she hated Stiles for not fighting off the nogitsune inside his head? That she hated Kira for even bringing the spirit around in the first place? That she hated Isaac for not understanding what she needed right now? No, it was better that she didn’t go. 

Chris had called his old hunter friend Rufus when she had asked for an assignment. A real hunter assignment. 

She threw her duffel in her car and backed out of her driveway. She thought about stopping to say goodbye to Melissa, but she knew there were no words that could possibly comfort Scott’s mom right now, so Allison kept driving. She only stopped once, to fill up her gas tank. She reached the Oregon border just before dark and glared at the “Welcome to Oregon” sign. 

Just under an hour later and she was looking up at a creepy old log cabin with one shuttered window to the right of the front door. She double checked the coordinates on her phone, then headed up the front step. She knocked on the door, and a wiry black man with a mustache, a goatee, and a blinding smile appeared.

“Rufus Turner?”

“Allison! Last time I saw you, you were a child,” he said, his eyes sympathetic.

“I’m not a child anymore,” she huffed as she brushed past him through the front door. “Let’s get this done.”

“Man, they keep getting younger and younger,” Rufus muttered as he disappeared into the room right off the main hallway. She heard the clank of metal against metal, presumably signaling that he was packing his equipment. She crossed her arms, impatient. Her brain felt numb. She was strung out on adrenaline and anger and would thankfully be able to utilize both tonight. 

She got in Rufus’ beat-up truck before she asked what these vampires had done. She felt the urge to verify her dad’s intel. If Chris Argent had been wrong, it wouldn’t be the first time. Once she asked, Rufus explained how the older two Vampires had kidnapped a child to turn her a few years ago. Now, the three-vampire nest hunted women in dark alleys and drank their fill directly from human veins every Thursday. The body count was racking up and the vampires gave no sign of desisting. That was enough information to satisfy her. Besides, it’s best not to ask too many questions when you’re already on the way to the vampire liar. 

Rufus discussed the logistics of taking down the nest with her. It was a simple enough plan - Allison would get a clear shot through the north window of the vampire hideout, take out as many as possible with her arrows. Rufus would wait outside, in case they decided to make a run for it. There were only three, so Allison didn’t expect much trouble.

Except nothing ever goes as planned. None of the vampires were standing in the living room and Allison could not get a clear shot. 

Rufus was spotted from the inside, and a Vampire rushed out to tackle him. Rufus went down with a shout and his sword was flung to the ground, too far away for him to grasp. Instead he reached into his jacket to retrieve his knife, and was able to cut the vampire’s throat. Blood dripped onto his face before he shoved the body up and off. 

Allison charged into the room and quickly shot an arrow right through the second vampire’s head. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground, but the arrow wasn’t enough to kill him. The third vampire, a young looking girl with flowing blonde hair, tried to run, so Allison dropped her bow and drew a knife from the holster fastened against the back of her thigh. She threw it with expert precision and the vamp slumped to the ground, blood spurting out of her femoral artery. The vampire screamed in agony. Allison hesitated, but then walked outside to pick up Rufus’ discarded sword. She walked back in the house and lopped the two living vampires’ heads off one by one, callously ignoring their pleas for mercy. She marched outside, satisfied that the job was done.

Rufus scrambled up from where he lay on the ground and Allison threw the sword at his feet. He stared at her, sweat on his brow and his hands clenched in fists at his sides. His eyebrow twitched and he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked… afraid. Allison looked away, her teeth gritted. She should not have to feel guilty, she was just doing what needed to be done. But she couldn’t help but wonder if she should have felt ashamed anyway. She wondered if she should have felt anything.

Instead, she just felt cold all over. 

\----

**A Few Weeks Later**

Allison and Rufus where in a diner near the shitty hotel they were staying at, eating cheeseburgers. Allison felt like she hadn’t eaten in days, and she barely looked up from her food. The two of them hadn’t talked much since ordering.

“Look, Ally -” Rufus started.

“Don’t call me that.” She glared at him, suddenly annoyed with this presence. 

Rufus put down his burger.

“Fine. Allison. I’ve seen your type before. And I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be angry. But it will eat you up.”

Allison snorted, but refrained from rolling her eyes. This man barely knew her.

“You can’t forget the oldest rule,” Rufus said as he folded his arms across his chest.

“What’s that?” Allison couldn’t help but be curious. It seemed that every hunter operated under their own code.

“You can’t save everyone.” Rufus shrugged, his eyes wide and imploring.

“That’s crap,” Allison couldn’t help but reply. She refrained from telling him that she already knew that statement to be true. She hated it anyway.

“This job is about protecting people,” Allison said instead. She knew the world was a darker place without Scott McCall around, and if she could keep the darkness at bay for even a handful of people, it was what she had to do. Scott might not have approved, but this was the only way to try and set things _right_.

“Sure. But we’re only human. There’s only so much you can do to protect people from monsters.” 

She knew she couldn’t find the line between human and monster as clearly Rufus could. She didn’t bother explaining that while Scott had been a werewolf, but he had never been a monster. 

\----

**A Few Months Later**

She ended up hunting a few more times with Rufus, and he taught her a few things even her Dad hadn’t. Like the fastest way to draw a gun from a thigh holster, or the best way to clean her bow.

Their partnership was easy. He would crack jokes and offer advice, and she stayed mostly quiet. He gathered intel, she killed things.

She only thought about Scott on days that ended in ‘y’.

She also thought about Stiles, and the defeated look in his eyes when she had threatened him. She wondered what he was doing now.

She called Lydia sometimes, but they didn’t talk about Scott. Or Stiles. Instead, Lydia talked about Isaac taking over the Lacrosse team, or Jackson’s latest escapades in London. Allison would ask Lydia the best way to get blood stains out of her clothes or the best way to get crotchety old men to stop talking. 

Allison was always grateful that Lydia didn’t ask her to come back.

\----

**One Year Later**

She and Rufus stopped in a nearly empty parking lot behind an old local bar in search of new wheels for Allison. There were only two cars that looked like possible candidates. One was a huge rusted Ford truck with a diesel engine, and the other was a scratched up red jeep with a soft top.

“Which one?” Rufus turned to he after he got out of his car.

“The gas is too expensive for the truck. Let’s get the jeep.” Allison wasn’t just thinking about gas prices, though. The jeep reminded her of Stiles. She was far enough away from it all now that she thought the jeep might offer her some semblance of normalcy. Of the way things used to be. She wanted to be comforted, and an old dilapidated jeep might just do that.

Rufus had taught her how to hotwire a car, and Allison easily utilized her new skill while he looked on. The engine roared to life, and Allison couldn’t help but smile. Scott would probably be feeling pretty uncomfortable right about now. Stiles, though. He’d be proud. 

Before Allison climbed into the jeep, she thanked Rufus for all of his help. The day before, he had told her about a ghost that was snatching people from houseboats just south of the California border at Lake Shasta. Allison was ready to go out on her own, and eagerly accepted the mission. Two people had already been drowned, so it was high time somebody stopped this thing.

“Your dad is gonna kill me when he finds out I let you go on this mission by yourself. But it’s Shabbat, so I definitely can’t help. You do what you’re supposed to, and this thing shouldn’t be hard. A couple days, tops.”

“I’ll be fine, Rufus,” Allison said. She shook his hand and threw her duffel onto the passenger’s seat. He smiled ruefully at her as she got behind the wheel, like maybe he was going to miss her.

She waved, and then she hit the road.

\----

Her phone rang about twenty minutes into the drive, and she was seriously going to hang up on Rufus if he was calling her already, but it was Lydia. She let her know she was driving to Shasta, and she would call her back later.

“Wait, you’re driving? Where’s Rufus?” Lydia asked.

“Doing this one myself, Lyds.” 

“Yourself? No back up?” Lydia clearly sounded worried.

“Yeah, I’m a big girl now. Seriously, don’t worry,” Allison said before she hung up. She was annoyed that Lydia sounded as if she didn’t trust her judgment or her abilities, even if she knew she should have been grateful that Lydia cared about her. 

Allison arrived at Lake Shasta a few hours later. The sun glinted off the lake, and the cool air felt good on her face. She put the jeep in park and walked out onto the nearest dock. Her bow was resting at her back. She didn’t see anyone around this particular part of the lake, probably because of the two drownings that had recently happened here. Word had spread quickly, which was probably a good thing.

The gentle lapping of the water against the shore belied a false sense of calm, because Allison knew there were monsters lurking just underneath. 

The still, warm air almost disturbed Allison more than than the thought of a potentially killer ghost hiding somewhere in the vicinity. It was as if the lake was laughing at her, trying to lull her into a false sense of complacency. 

But she had work to do.

She started to meander around the lake, looking for all the world like a carefree teen, but her body was tensed in anticipation of any out of place splashing sound. Her eyes scanned the treeline for any movement. Her hand was never far from her bow. However, she made it around the lake without incident. 

Maybe the ghost had a pattern it stuck to, or only chose a certain kind of victim. Further research was going to be necessary.

She climbed back into her truck so she could drive a little further out, to the old run down town she had seen on google maps. Surely she would pick up clues in what used to be downtown Shasta.

Large orange and red brick walls stood silent, nestled amongst green trees and yellowing grass. She could see a wooden walkway connecting some of the old brick buildings. She parked the jeep, and leaned over the backseat to rummage around in her weapons cache. She produced a Colt M1911A1 pistol that Rufus had loaned her. The barrel was made of shiny black metal, and the handle was made from dark brown wood. She grabbed some wrought iron rounds from a small white box, and chambered a few and put the safety back on before she tucked the gun into her thigh holster. 

With her bow still at her back, she ventured out and down the walkway. It felt good to be hyper-focused on something worthwhile, something meaningful. She could be single-minded in her task, and she didn’t feel angry. While the cool breeze ruffling her hair and her eyes automatically scanned the gutted and abandoned buildings, she felt almost free.

Then, she heard a twig snap. She froze, her whole body stiff with the sudden rush of adrenaline. She carefully reached over her shoulder to pull her bow from her back. She took cover around the corner of a brick wall, and silently nocked an arrow. She peered around the corner, anxiously awaiting the intruder. 

She planned out in her head what she would have to do if it was the ghost. Drop the bow, grab the gun, squeeze the trigger. If it was a person? Well, she’d have to just scare them enough to see what they were up to. A lifetime ago, she might have considered walking out onto the path with her bow tucked away, in order to act like an innocent teenager, but she figured she wouldn’t be able to pull that off now. There was nothing innocent about her anymore. 

A shadow fell along the ground, and Allison became certain she was dealing with a human as she watched the shadow move. And judging by length of time in between each footstep, it was a man. She waited until the shadow was nearly around the corner before she stepped out in front of him.

And found herself once again pointing an arrow at Stiles’ chest. She startled, disbelieving her eyes for a moment. Was she seeing things?

She lowered her arrow. To Stiles’ credit, he didn’t look too perturbed. In fact, he just shrugged like he wasn’t surprised.

“What are you doing here?” She said, still bewildered.

“So you’re not going to kill me today?” He quipped. Stiles looked… good. Maybe not quite happy, but his lips were curved upwards in what appeared to be a close resemblance to his old smile. His arms filled out his flannel shirt, and his hands were tucked sheepishly into the pockets of his jeans, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. He didn’t look like someone who was still in mourning.

But Allison knew better than anyone that sometimes the largest scars couldn’t be seen.

Allison turned on her heel to walk back up the wooden walkway. She didn’t have to make time for his brand of humor today or any day. Besides, she most definitely did not appreciate the fact that Stiles showed up out of nowhere, forcing her to think about Beacon Hills, and Werewolves, and _Scott_. She had been doing pretty damn good the whole week until that moment.

“Allison, hey. I didn’t mean to… I was just… looks like we are both tracking the ghost of Charles Butters. Maybe we can help each other.”

Allison stopped. Charles Butters? Of course Stiles would have researched the hell out of the ghost before he came up here. Allison, on the other hand, had just waltzed in, guns blazing. Maybe if Stiles wanted to share his intel, she could make use of him before sending him on his merry way. 

“Who?” She turned around, and Stiles grinned.

“Oh, you’re telling me you don’t know? The person responsible for the random drownings? The drownings where kids are reportedly dragged by their legs into the lake, only to quickly disappear before anyone can reach them?” Stiles had his arms crossed over his chest as he relayed the things she already knew.

“You look way too excited about those rather morbid facts, Stilinski.” She gestured with her hand for him to get on with it and strapped her bow back onto her back.

“This whole place used to be called Old Shasta. It was a mining town filled with minors and merchants ready to make a quick fortune. Pretty typical for this area in the late 1800s. But it’s neighboring town was called Kennett. Kennett was massive, with over 10,000 people and much larger than the average mining town. 10,000 people that just up and left when the mining business dried up. The town was then put under water when they created Lake Shasta.”

Stiles was really on a roll now. 

“And Charles Butters?” Allison crossed her arms, hoping to intimidate him just a little bit. Make him jump to the point. 

“Aw, good ol’ Chuck. He ran the place.” Stiles raised his eyebrows, like his statement should have explained everything. 

“So he was rich. Why did a rich guy become a ghost?” Allison asked. 

“There are a million reasons. Like, maybe his wife cheated on him, or some banker double crossed him, or he was a psychopath who had his rivals murdered. Who knows?”

“Well if you don’t, maybe you aren’t very useful and you should go back to Beacon Hills.” Allison turned around to walk back towards her jeep. She was suddenly feeling claustrophobic, like she needed to get out and run. She hadn’t said the words Beacon Hills since… well, a very long time.

Stiles trailed behind her, like a lost puppy. He sure wasn’t going to make this easy on her.

“Allison, you know as well as I do that there’s nothing there for me. It’s like I’m… drowning or something when I’m there. Working this mission would give me something to do. A purpose.”

Allison made it to her jeep and leaned against it, breathing heavily. She hadn’t really spoken to another human in close proximity in awhile, since she had ditched Rufus. Rufus wasn’t exactly good at talking about feelings. And now that Stiles was here, bringing up Beacon Hills again, she nearly felt overwhelmed. She felt her body collapse in on herself, her chest constricted, and it became harder to breath.

Stiles walked up to her and gently put his hand on her arm. 

“Hey. You’re okay.” His earnest hazel eyes looked concerned and troubled and she didn’t want to feel like Stiles was pitying her, but she couldn’t look away. She willed herself not to cry.

“I thought I’d been doing so good, ya know?” Allison took deep, steadying breathes and thought about the most diplomatic way to get Stiles to leave her to suffer alone.

“There are good days and bad. Sometimes it just hits me like a wave, other days I almost feel normal,” Stiles shared with a shrugged. At least he understood. But that didn’t make Allison want to talk about it. 

“You know, I think this mission is more of a solo gig,” Allison deflected. She shrugged Stiles arm off and opened the door to her jeep.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Argent.” Stiles grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes before she climbed into the cab. She decided to keep her mouth shut to keep from goading him further. She turned the key, and attempted to plaster on a smile as Stiles took a step back from the car.

“I like the jeep, by the way,” Stiles yelled over the roar of the old engine. She gave a half-hearted wave as she drove out of the parking lot. She watched Stiles grinning and waving from her rearview mirror, and it was such a familiar site that her chest nearly ached. Not that she would have told him that.

\----

Allison drove to the lake, determined to camp out that night and try to spot the ghost. The weekend was fast approaching, so maybe there would be families up at the lake by now that she should keep watch over. 

She pulled up to an unmarked camp site and hopped out of the jeep. She couldn’t hear any other campers, and dusk was already falling. Looked like she was just going to be up there alone. Dusk had settled over the camp, and everything was painted in a pale gray. She could barely make out a few stars in the sky, and everything was quiet. It was calming.

Right up until she heard the crunching gravel of an approaching car.

Stiles’ blue jeep came into view as he rounded the bend, and he made eye contact with her briefly before he whipped the jeep into the spot next to her. She groaned.

“How did you find me?” She asked as he killed the engine.

“This is a public campground, and the one closest to the last ghost attack. I wasn’t looking for you, we just had the same idea,” Stiles said smugly from the driver’s seat.

“Well, don’t get any ideas about cuddling for warmth. I brought my own blankets,” she gruffed. It was going to be a long night if Stiles expected to chat the whole time.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Ally A,” Stiles teased. He climbed over the driver’s seat, clumsily fell into the backseat, and popped up exuberantly with a red sleeping bag in his fist.

“I’m practically a boy scout,” Stiles exclaimed, triumphant. Allison couldn’t help herself; she laughed at the sight of him, hair mussed and a giant dorky grin on his face.

“She smiles,” Stiles remarked under his breath. But she heard him. She let the comment slide.

She popped open the passenger side rear door and settled into her own backseat with the blankets she had stowed in the back, her hand on her pistol. She could hear Stiles rummaging around in his jeep, and then he apparently settled down too. A comfortable silence settled over the park, and Allison drifted.

It felt like she was only asleep for a minute when a strangled scream forced her to jerk awake.

She grabbed her pistol and hopped out of the cab, but the scream had been loud and piercing. Like whoever was in trouble was right next to her.

Stiles.

She grabbed onto the blue jeep’s window frame to peer in, and Stiles was struggling against his sleeping bag, shouting and whimpering.

“Stiles. Stiles! Wake up, you’re okay.” She did her best to hoist her body into the window, but it took some maneuvering. By the time she dropped her body into the front seat, Stiles was awake. He sat up, sweat dripping off his brow and his hair spiked up in every direction.

“Nightmare?” Allison asked, quietly.

“Yeah. About the Nogitsune. It gets intense in here,” Stiles said through shaky breaths as he tapped his temple.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Allison said as she reached for his hand and pressed his palm against hers. His hand was clammy with sweat, but she gripped onto him and squeezed his fingers.

“It’s okay,” he started to say after a moment, “Scott would want me to be able to pretend to be normal, ya know? I do my best but some nights are hard, like I’m reliving it. I just have to let it hit me and then be patient with the way I feel. I’ll be okay,” he repeated, although Allison felt that was mostly for her benefit. He squeezed her hand back, and they sat like that for awhile, until Stiles’ heart rate came down and he started breathing normally. Allison couldn’t think of anything comforting to say, so she didn’t say anything.

Clearly, Stiles still carried the pain with him just as she did. She felt guilty that she had ever thought otherwise. She lay awake in her jeep for a few hours after she left Stiles on his own, rethinking the way she had blamed Stiles at the very beginning, when the pain had been so fresh. But didn’t matter who felt worse or who deserved to suffer more, because experiencing and hiding pain shouldn’t be some kind of contest.

Grief seemed to be a constant companion, a secret tucked away in her pocket, always ready to make her angry or sad without any notice. It would be with her always, but as she thought about life post-Scott, she knew she didn’t let her anger control her anymore. She didn’t live in fear of her anger erupting or her pain overcoming her. She just had to set herself free and let her emotions hit her when they needed to, like Stiles did. But she could keep living her life.

She felt new after this realization. She let herself think of all the happy memories she had of Scott, of him doing homework with her at his house, or driving her to dinner, or studying in the library. She lay awake, smiling until her face hurt. 

\----

The next morning, she felt stiff and disoriented at first. She’d only gotten a few hours sleep, but the brilliant dawn light roused her. She stretched and shoved her blankets aside with a groan. 

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by a high-pitched scream, coming from a ways off. Definitely not Stiles this time. She grabbed her pistol and her bow, kicked open the car door, and dashed towards the lake. She heard a door crash against the side of a car with a bang, and someone’s footsteps pounding on the ground behind her, and she figured Stiles wasn’t far behind.

The screaming suddenly stopped as she was running, and Allison’s blood ran cold. Someone must be getting dragged underwater. She reached the sand and her feet sunk in, forcing her to slow her gate. She scanned the horizon, and noticed hands reaching above the water to her right, by the dock. 

She briefly debated jumping into the water, but the ghost probably would have been able to grab her too. Instead, she raced down the dock, and reached her hands out to the kid in the water.

The head popped up above the surface, and it turned out it was a little boy with mouse brown hair. His eyes were blown wide in terror.

“Please, it’s got me!” The boy shouted. 

“Grab my hand!” Allison was on her knees, her hand stretched as far as it could go. The boy was just out of her reach. He started to paddle his way towards her, but a huge splash abruptly made her turn her head. She saw someone with a blue flannel shirt duck under the water and swim towards the boy.

“Stiles?!” 

Stiles surfaced, his hands tucked under the boy’s armpits. He pushed him towards the dock, and Allison grabbed the boy’s hands. He sputtered as she hauled him up.

“Are you okay?” She asked him as she bent down to move the hair out of his face.

“I think so,” he replied shakily, his voice weak. 

“Wait, where’s Stiles?” Allison frantically stood up and turned towards the water. Stiles was swimming towards the dock, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He definitely looked freaked out, but he made it to the dock unaided. She stuck out her hand, and he grabbed it and let her haul him up onto the dock. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Allison yelled. She couldn’t help it. He had been completely reckless, jumping into the lake like that without any sort of protection or backup -

“The kid needed me.” Stiles smiled up at her, his hair dripping water onto his face and his blue flannel clinging to his skin.

“Yeah, but you didn’t even know what was out there,” Allison said, still angry. “I nearly had him.” Stiles wisely didn’t comment on that.

The little kid spoke up from where he sat on the dock. “I think he did a good job.”

“Hey, thanks buddy. I’m Stiles.” Stiles smiled warmly at the kid, and Allison took a few deep breaths, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Everyone was okay, for now. Plus, Stiles was doing great at the whole hero thing, and that was definitely a surprise her.

“And this is my friend Allison,” Stiles said as he pointed at her, “What’s your name?”

“Tyler,” the kid replied, looking more animated by the minute. He seemed to be about 8 or 9.

“Did you see anything, Tyler?” Allison asked. Stiles shot her a look, like maybe she wasn’t speaking gently enough. But they were in the middle of an investigation.

Tyler got glassy-eyed for a minute, like he was remembering something. Allison resisted the urge to shake him.

“I leaned down to touch the water, even though mommy said not to go in by myself. It was like it was calling to me. And something grabbed me. I couldn’t see a face, but it had hair on its head. It was tugging me away from the dock.” The boy pointed out onto the lake and shuddered.

“Thanks, Tyler. That’s useful,” Allison said as she studied the water. 

“C’mon buddy, let’s go find your parents.” Stiles wrapped his wet arms around Tyler and started to walk him down the dock back to the beach. He looked at Allison and mouthed _be right back_ as he walked, before he turned his attention back to Tyler. He started asking him about his vacation and about his family, and Allison smiled softly before she looked back out onto the lake. Stiles hadn’t lost his people skills. In fact, he appeared to know exactly when to be gentle. He counteracted her businesslike demeanor. And he had saved Tyler. Maybe having him around wasn’t such a bad thing.

Plus, Stiles didn’t look half bad in that soaking wet flannel.

She chided herself for losing sight of her priorities and turned her thoughts back to the mission. Clearly the lake monster had a thing for kids. And the pattern seemed to be that it only struck in the morning. It somehow enticed kids towards the water. 

The surface of the water looked completely calm now. There was no sign of the previous struggle. Allison started to walk back in the direction Stiles and Tyler had walked, curious about how Stiles had escaped without being attacked. 

She walked a bit until she saw Tyler’s campsite. His parents were fussing over him, and he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Stiles was busy explaining what had happened when Allison walked up to their group.

“Oh you must be Allison. Thank you so much!” Presumably the person who was Tyler’s mom wrapped her hands around Allison’s shoulders in a hug. Allison stood stock-still, slightly shocked. She made eye contact with Stiles over the woman’s shoulder, and he grinned at her and flashed two thumbs up. Allison rolled her eyes, but smiled back. 

“No problem, Ma’am. But we probably should be going,” Allison said into the woman’s hair. She smelled of lavender and pancakes, and she was entirely too motherly for Allison to stomach being around her for much longer.

“Nonsense. Please, have breakfast with us! I’m Greg, Tyler’s dad.” The man clapped Allison on the back as the mom released Allison from her grip.

“Ya, please stay!” Tyler trumpeted. 

“We’d love to!” Stiles answered before Allison could. She shot him a frosty look, but he was still grinning like he knew this was going to be good for her or something.

Actually, now that she thought about it, she hadn’t eaten home cooked food with other people since Rufus tried to cook beans from a can in that hotel kitchen, and that hadn’t ended particularly well.

“Who would say no to pancakes?” Stiles added as an afterthought. He walked past her to help with the plates, and she punched him gently in the arm. 

“Fair point,” she conceded. Tyler was okay, the monster was vanquished for at least another day, and Stiles’ shirt was still sticking to his chest in an obscenely suggestive way, so she grabbed the plastic forks and knives to help set the picnic table, and decided that she could let herself enjoy breakfast.

\----

Later, as they walked back to their jeeps, Allison turned the conversation from whether bacon was strictly only a breakfast food, to the case.

“Do you know where they buried Butters?” Allison turned to Stiles, her hands on her hips.

“What? Why does that matter?” Stiles shot her a look, his eyebrows raised, like he was personally affronted that she was changing the subject. 

“Oh, so apparently you don’t know _everything_ , huh?” Allison teased as she elbowed his ribs. It turned out she did have information that Stiles didn’t already have, and she felt inordinately pleased with herself.

“Ya know, since we are partners now you could at least clue me in,” Stiles fired back.

“Partners?” Allison asked, incredulous. 

Stiles stepped in front of her to stop her from walking.

“I get it, you’re a lone wolf and all that. But at least for this one case, we are stuck on the same team. So tell me what you know. I shared with you,” he pointed out.

Once Allison started to tell Stiles about things that only hunters should know, he’d no longer be just any other human. There was no going back. But he had come here to stop the ghost without her help and expertise. Telling him more information at this point wasn’t going to change his intent or make him safer. Allison relented.

“That’s how you kill a ghost. You burn its bones. Which are probably buried in his grave.”

Stiles started to laugh, but after he saw that her facial expression hadn’t changed and she was deadly serious, his eyes went wide.

“Really? That’s so simple but so… morbid.” 

“I don’t make the rules.” Allison shrugged. 

“Well, we are in luck. I know exactly where the Kennett town graveyard is. At least, the graveyard that isn’t submerged in water. There were only two places the townsfolk were buried.”

Allison shuddered. If his grave was underwater, how was she going to kill him? Only one way to know for sure.

“Lead the way, Stilinski.” Allison started walking again, and Stiles fell in step beside her.

“Maybe we should take one car, ya know? Saves gas and all that. I’ll drive.”

Allison rolled her eyes, but agreed. She grabbed her duffel out of her jeep before getting into Stiles’ more familiar vehicle. She was surprised by the wave of nostalgia that hit her as soon as he got in. She touched the dashboard and smiled fondly, thinking about her and Scott and Stiles riding around together in Beacon Hills. She caught Stiles smiling at her before he quickly turned away, a blush coloring his cheeks.

\----

They only had to wonder the graveyard for about ten minutes before they found their man. Or rather, headstone. Two huge gray pillars were erected at the head of the elaborate grave, and a stone archway connected the two pillars. The stone was weathered and chipped, but luckily you could still read the name engraved on the archway. Allison stared at the inscription below his name.

_To those who seek success, may you be successful._

“Can you believe this guy? What a pompous jackass. His grave marker is easily the largest one in this whole place,” Stiles bemoaned.

“Definitely looks like the kinda guy who would come back for more after he’s dead,” Allison added.

She busted out two folded shovels from her duffel, and handed one to Stiles.

“This is officially my least favorite part of this whole hunting thing,” Stiles joked as he looked over at her.

“You and me both,” Allison agreed, “but we’ll be getting our arm workout in today.”

“Like I need it. Have you seen these guns?” Stiles flexed his right arm and pursed his lips and Allison couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness. 

“Sure, Stilinski. Keep tellin’ yourself that,” is what Allison said, but she definitely took the opportunity to check Stiles’ out. Maybe Stiles had been working out, or he just seemed more confident now that he was older. Either way, Allison didn’t mind looking at him.

Stiles ditched his flannel on the grass once they broke ground. Occasionally she would sneak a glance at him while he was working. She admired his determination, and watched as sweat beaded on his forehead. His shoulders and biceps were taught under his thin white undershirt, and his freckles stood out starkly against his pale cheekbones. Allison still didn’t like having to dig up graves, but she wasn’t going to complain about it quite as much anymore.

Allison and Stiles dug at the earth for hours before they finally reached the coffin, pried open the lid, and lit the bones on fire. They were exhausted by the end, and Allison was in desperate need of a hot shower. She was also fairly sure Stiles had caught her looking, but he didn’t say anything.

“Good work, Stilinski,” Allison said as she high-fived Stiles on the way to the car.

“Same to you, Argent,” Stiles said with a huge grin. He didn’t stop smiling for the entire drive back to the campsite. 

\----

After her shower, Allison emerged from the women’s side of the bathrooms feeling a little hesitant. Maybe this mission had been as easy as Rufus claimed it would be. But then again, maybe they had missed something.

She sat in her jeep on the passenger’s side with the door open, looking at out the lake, until Stiles came out from the men’s shower with a fresh gray t-shirt shirt and jeans on. His hair was damp and he ran his hand through it, so it stuck up at crazy angles.

Allison smiled softly at the sight of him. She valued the peacefulness of the woods around them, and the way Stiles smiled back at her, and maybe she could let herself believe that they were safe. He walked over to his jeep, and Allison watched him pack up his toiletries. 

She couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding though, so she decided to break the calm stillness that had settled over them and give voice to her concerns. She convinced herself she was only saying something because of her hunter training, and her worries had nothing to do with the fact that Stiles would be leaving if the mission was really over.

“We aren’t really sure if Butters was our target. Maybe we should stay here tonight again, just to make sure he doesn’t come back.” Allison turned towards her body towards him, her legs dangling out of the red jeep.

“I agree,” Stiles replied easily. He turned back around to look at her, his face thoughtful.

He walked up to her, until he was standing right between her legs. Allison’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips were slightly parted. He hesitantly put his large hands on her thighs. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, sounding shy. She gulped, unsure of herself. She didn’t trust her own voice, so she nodded.

She gathered him up against her chest, her arms around him and her chin on his shoulder. They stayed like that, holding each other, and Allison stroked Stiles’ hair until the sun sank below the horizon. She felt her breathing sync with his, and she felt serene, like maybe everything was going to be okay.

\----

Eventually they broke apart, and Allison climbed into the back of her jeep. Alone. She watched Stiles retreat to his own jeep, his body looking relaxed. She spread out her sleeping bag, bemoaning the fact that she was once again sleeping in her car. But it was a small price to pay for peace of mind. 

She had barely drifted off when the screams pierced the silence. 

“Fuck,” she heard Stiles shout from his jeep.

The screams sounded like the screams they had heard the day before, when Tyler was in trouble.

Allison scrambled out of her sleeping bag and took off running towards the sound of the screams, just behind Stiles. She skidded to a stop when she saw two figures making their way towards the lake.

She could make out the outline of a taller man, dragging Tyler towards the water. Allison rubbed her eyes, unsure of what she was seeing.

“That’s Greg,” Stiles hissed as he looked on. What the hell?

“Hey, what are you doing?” Stiles shouted at them. Allison ran forward just as Greg reached the edge of the water, Tyler’s ankle gripped firmly in his hand. Tyler was thrashing and kicking him, but he wasn’t giving an inch. 

“Put him down!” Allison had her fists up, ready to fight. Greg didn’t even look at her, he just tried to keep walking.

Allison decked him in the back of the head, and he crumpled. Stiles was there in an instant, and he helped Tyler to his feet and walked him away from the water.

“Are you okay?” Allison heard Stiles ask. She knelt down to get a better look at Greg, in a t-shirt and plaid boxers. He looked altogether normal as he started to blink back awake. He made eye contact with her, and his face betrayed his confusion. Maybe he had been acting by someone else’s design.

“Allison? Why are we at the lake?” Greg said as he clamored to his feet. Black goo started to ooze from his nose. 

Tyler backed away, scared still. Greg’s face fell when he noticed.

“What did I do?” He asked his son. 

“You didn’t know,” Allison supplied, “You were possessed.” She looked over at Stiles, who didn’t look particularly surprised.

“What the hell?” Greg said, looking between the both of them. Stiles still had his arm protectively around Tyler’s shoulders.

“Look, do you have salt? Put that around your tent. You’ll be safe tonight,” Allison said bluntly. The ghost wasn’t just an ordinary ghost, then. It was a vengeful spirit, powerful enough to possess someone, with a thirst for Tyler’s blood.

“Trust her, she knows what she’s doing,” Stiles said as Greg continued to look bewildered.

“Yeah, dad. She does.” Tyler spoke up, his voice just a little shaky. He sounded more brave than he had the day before, despite the circumstances. 

“Ok. Ok.” Greg repeated. The four of them walked back to the campsite, and Allison watched as Stiles helped them draw a salt circle around the tent. Tyler still looked freaked out, but at least he wasn’t flinching when his dad was near him anymore. They left them with assurances that they could be back in an instant if they heard anything else. Allison was thankful that Tyler was being so resilient. 

“So, a vengeful spirit, huh?” Stiles asked as they walked back to their cars. 

Allison looked over at him, angry that she they hadn’t burned the right bones. The mission wasn’t over yet. 

“We are going to need to call Lydia. She’s got high speed internet and a computer with the bestiary on it.”

Stiles just nodded and trailed along as Allison fumed.

\----

“You’re saying Butters’ had a kid?” Stiles asked, incredulous. Lydia was on speaker phone, and Allison and Stiles were sitting in the back of Stiles’ jeep, huddled around Allison’s cell.

“Yeah, his name was Hammond. He drowned when the town flooded. He was eight.” Lydia sounded like she was scanning websites, reading off information. 

“Shit, so it’s the kid who is the ghost?” Stiles pushed.

“Or is it his mom?” Allison mused.

“Either way, we burned the wrong guy,” Stiles pointed out.

“Eh, he won’t be needing those bones anyway,” Lydia said, her voice tinny because of the weak signal.

“Okay, Hammond’s got the tragic backstory going for him. It’s probably him. But let’s burn them both to be sure.” Stiles was amped up now, practically bouncing off the walls. Allison felt the opposite, like she would much rather just curl up and wait until the right ghost showed itself. What would be the point of digging up two graves if neither was the right one?

“And Rufus said this was going to be easy,” Allison groaned. 

“Who is Rufus?” Stiles asked, his voice tinged with annoyance as he looked at the phone, like he was expecting an answer from Lydia.

“It’s a long story,” Allison said, confused by Stiles’ reaction.

“That’s her hunter mentor, Stiles,” Lydia supplied. Stiles let out a huff of breath, and Allison looked between Stiles and the phone. They both knew something she didn’t. 

“Anyway, better get on with ghost hunting. I’m glad you two are working together, it seems like it’s working out well,” Lydia said before she hung up the phone.

“We are talking about this later,” Allison said sternly to Stiles before she hopped out of the car. Her mind was reeling. Maybe Stiles and Lydia had been talking about her behind her back, trying to figure out if she had completely lost her mind. Maybe Stiles was supposed to be spying on her, and Lydia had forgot to mention Rufus.

“Uh. Maybe you should ask Lydia about this?” Stiles said sheepishly as he scrambled out behind her. That definitely didn’t make Allison feel any better, but she tried to push her anxious thoughts to the back of her mind so she could get on with finding the ghost and ending the mission. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to hit the road again, alone. Being alone was easier than navigating relationships. Especially now, when she didn’t know if she could trust Stiles. Although if Allison was honest, she didn’t know if she trusted anyone. 

They made their way to the graveyard silently, and searched with their phones in flashlight mode until they found the graves they were looking for. Mrs. Charles Butters was buried right next to her husband, but the child, Hammond Butters, was buried just at the edge of the forest, away from everyone else. Odd, but not unprecedented. Still, the location definitely seemed to indicate a family rift. 

Allison dug up Hammond and Stiles dug up Mrs. Butters, and then they both salted the graves. Allison was proud of herself for barely glancing over at Stiles. Namely because it was dark and she was still mad at him for whatever had passed between him and Lydia earlier. She handed Stiles a lit match after he doused the bones in lighter fluid, and he threw it into Mrs. Butters’ grave without incident.

They both stood over Hammond’s open casket, and Stiles drizzled it with lighter fluid. Allison was about ready to drop in the match, when a slimy, wet child with black hair appeared behind them and pushed Stiles right into the grave before either of them could react.

“Hammond, you really don’t want to do that,” Allison chided, brandishing an iron stake from her pack. Looks like they had found their ghost.

The child ghost hopped down into his grave, his face tight and angry. His skin was pasty white and dripping with condensation, and his long hair clung to his face and neck. He wore a tattered white blouse and washed out light blue overalls.

“Just try and throw that match with him down here. He’ll go up like firewood.” The ghost pointed at Stiles, before starting to advance on him. Stiles gestured towards Allison’s weapon, his face stoic.

“Back away from Stiles and I won’t hurt you,” Allison blew out the match she was still holding in the hand not brandishing the iron stake, and started to step away from the grave.

The ghost was watching her intently, but Stiles lunged forward and tried to grab Hammond with his bare hands.

“Hey!” The ghost squealed in disgust, even though Stiles’ hands passed right through him. Since the ghost was distracted, Allison took the opportunity to throw Stiles the stake. He didn’t catch it, and it clattered into the open casket. He dove for it, and picked it up before the ghost could grab him. He swung it like a bat and the ghost flew apart and disappeared.

“Nice,” Stiles remarked as Allison scrambled to get another match out of her coat pocket.

“Get out of there, Stiles!” Allison hissed. She reached down with her right hand to help him scramble up the sides of the grave, the match held aloft with her left hand.

Hammond reappeared in the casket, and flung out his hand to grab Stiles’ foot. He narrowly missed his mark, and Stiles swore and kicked and clawed his way out as quickly as he could.

“Throw it in, Allison!” Stiles yelled as he cleared the edge of the grave. Allison looked down at the ghost, who now just looked sad and defeated. She tossed in the match.

“This isn’t fair,” Hammond remarked stubbornly before his body was swallowed up by the flames.

“We did it!” Stiles pumped his fist excitedly, and gathered Allison up in a big bear hug. She let him spin her around in his arms, her annoyance from earlier dulled by their victory. She felt a little remorse for Hammond and what was probably a terribly tragic and short life, but she was glad there weren’t going to be another drowning. Tyler was safe.

\----

With her body still coursing with adrenaline, she and Stiles triumphantly walked back to the jeeps with their gear. Allison kept looking over at Stiles, and caught him smiling at her. For a little while, as she packed her stuff, Allison almost let herself imagine a future where they were hunting partners.

She still felt a high from their victory, and her body was relaxed and at ease as she sat in her jeep, all her gear stowed. She turned to Stiles, not sure she even wanted to know the answer, but she asked the question anyway.

“So what was that all about earlier?” Allison asked. 

“I didn’t…” Stiles trailed off, avoiding her gaze. 

“C’mon, I know something is going on.” Allison prodded. She felt her body tensing again, unsure of what Stiles was going to say. 

“I knew you were going to be here in Shasta, working on this case. Lydia told me, and I came to help you.” 

Allison was slightly taken aback. As she thought about it, Stiles hadn’t lied per say, but he hadn’t been upfront about that fact either. He had made it so easy to believe he had just stumbled upon her. But it looked like Lydia had sent him. Maybe he had never intended to stay with her and help her. He was just her to check up on her.

“I know that look, Allison. But I didn’t want you to push me away. I know you could use some help.”

All of the goodwill from their earlier interaction at the graveyard dissipated and Allison was suddenly seeing red. He was going to pity her now? After everything?

“I don’t need your or anyone’s _help_. I can fucking do this on my own.” She was seething, but she managed not to scream at him. She hopped down from the passenger’s side and slammed the door.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Stiles tried to say, trailing after her.

“Don’t,” she spat. “At least this mission is over. You don’t have to babysit anymore.” 

Stiles didn’t answer. She climbed into the passenger’s seat and started the engine. She glanced over at Stiles, who was staring at her with a stricken expression on his face. For the briefest moment, Allison thought about staying and working this out. But her hand was already on the gearshift, and she backed out of the parking spot on autopilot. 

As soon as she reached the highway, she pulled over to gather herself and fire off a one-word text to Lydia. 

_Really?_

Almost immediately after she pulled back out onto the highway, Lydia called her. Allison ignored it. Instead, she called Rufus on speakerphone.

“Got another mission for me?” She said as soon as he answered.

“Well first of all, hello. Second, how did the ghost hunt go?” Rufus asked with an amused tone.

Allison huffed impatiently. She wanted a big mission to throw herself into, so she wouldn’t have to dwell on Stiles.

“We killed the ghost. Pretty straightforward.”

“We?” Rufus asked curiously. 

She regretted the pronoun as soon as it came out of her mouth.

“Rufus, do you have something for me or not.”

“Sure I do. But seeing as you just finished a hunt, you should come back up here. Recharge. And then I’ll help you on the next one.”

“Fine.” Allison hung up, frustrated. 

She kept driving until she could barely focus on the double yellow lines on the road. She pulled off at an old motel with a glowing neon yellow vacancy sign, checked into a room, and spread out on the bed with a heavy sigh, before she decided to call Lydia back.

“So do you think I need babysitting?” Allison cut right to the chase.

She could hear Lydia huff dramatically on the other end of the line. 

“You know I don’t. That’s not why Stiles came to help.” 

“It’s not? Because it seems to me that you just sent your boyfriend along to clean up my messes and make sure I don’t do anything stupid.” Allison’s voice sounded dark and sarcastic, and she started to realize she was being too harsh. Allison was barely mad anymore, anyway. She was mostly just tired. So tired.

“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend. Second of all, he’s the one who asked me where you were. He said he wanted out of Beacon Hills. He wanted to help. Mostly, he just wanted to see you,” Lydia explained patiently. 

Allison didn’t answer for awhile. She was thankful Lydia didn’t hang up. 

“I’m sorry,” Allison finally mumbled.

“It’s okay. I get angry too, sometimes. It’s still hard. But I’m your best friend, Allison. You have to let me help sometimes. And Stiles is coming from a good place. Even if I’m sure he said something stupid.” Lydia laughed lightly, and Allison couldn’t help but laugh too. She felt her body release the tension she had been carrying with her since she started the drive.

“So, you’re going to be okay?” Lydia asked, sounding bemused. 

“Yeah, I guess I am. This ghost hunt really turned into a self-help kind of mission,” Allison joked.

“That’s the best kind of mission,” Lydia said. 

“So, he’s not your boyfriend?” Allison asked nervously. Suddenly it seemed that all the looks that had passed between her and Stiles, and all the times he had touched her, might indicate some kind of connection beyond just friendship. 

“Not even close. You should probably call him so he doesn’t worry himself to death.”

Allison released a breath she didn’t know she was holding and rolled her eyes, but then remembered Lydia couldn’t see her. 

“Alright, alright.” Lydia bid her goodnight before hanging up, and Allison scrolled through her contacts idly before finally calling Stiles. She felt keyed-up as adrenaline thrummed through her, like she was about to jump off a cliff knowing there would be no way to cushion her fall. When Stiles picked up, she didn’t say anything at first. 

She took a deep breath, and Stiles waited.

She opted to keep it simple, even though it felt like a litany of unspoken words were threatening to tumble out of her, or strangle her. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Where are you?” He asked almost immediately. 

She told him. 

She paced the room after he abruptly hung up, still replaying their interactions during the mission over and over in her head. Maybe there was something there. Something she was ready to explore. 

She took a shower and hastily tugged on a white cotton t-shirt and black jeans. She suddenly regretted not bringing anything nicer than a t-shirt and jeans with her when she started her hunting life. There was a knock at her door about 20 minutes later. 

She looked through the peephole, completely unsurprised that it was him. She yanked open the door. He looked disheveled, his hair sticking up at odd angles. His face was taught, like he’d been forcing himself to stay awake. But he smiled softly when he saw her, and Allison was taken with it. She allowed herself to stare, and didn’t take her eyes off of him as she ushered him inside her motel room and shut the door. 

She knew then that she wanted Stiles to touch her, but she didn’t know if she should ask for it and pierce the silence hanging between them. Maybe he could tell by her face, or maybe he just happened to have the same thought as her, because he stepped forward into her space and reached out. She took his hand.

“Why did you come back?” She asked as she stood there facing him, his left hand clasped in her right.

“Well, considering I’ve never been to this motel before and neither have you, I didn’t technically come back.” He quirked his head, clearly teasing her. Or avoiding the question.

“Stiles.” His name came out in a harsh whisper, her voice completely betraying her. Mercifully he answered her without making her ask again.

“I wanted to.” He smiled softly as he said it, and Allison felt her heart constrict. She pulled him towards the bed. He followed her easily, until the back of her knees hit the bed. She sank down to the bed and climbed back on her elbows until she was leaning against the headboard. Stiles hopped onto the bed to follow her and laid out alongside her. He propped himself up on his elbow and fluttered his eyelashes suggestively. 

Allison laughed and punched him lightly in the arm. She felt warm and comfortable and _strange_. She had to know how Stiles felt, or else she would just sit there wondering.

“Lydia told me you guys aren’t…” She trailed off, unsure how to ask.

“We’re not. It isn’t too soon?” Stiles shot back, carefully watching her, his gaze unflinching. She knew he was referring to Scott, and she looked away, feeling impossibly young. The question made everything more complicated than it needed to be.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. Stiles nodded, and started to get up from the bed.

“Wait. Can you just stay here tonight?” 

“Of course,” he replied immediately. Allison reached out to take his hand again. He sank to the bed willingly, his hand in hers, and she sighed with relief. 

“But I get to be little spoon,” Stiles joked. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, until they were nose to nose. She felt him relax against her, and she tipped her head a bit to the right in order to kiss him. 

He sharply inhaled a breath, like he was surprised. But after he realized Allison wasn’t pulling back, he melted against her, and the kiss was soft and sweet and impossibly warm. She felt her body tingle from the simple pleasure of being so close to Stiles. 

She pulled back to look at him. Stiles’ eyelids looked heavy and his pupils were blown wide, and he was nearly cross-eyed trying to focus on her face from close range. She didn’t know how best to express how grateful she was for his loyalty and for his strength. She never would have guessed she needed him more than he needed her.

“I’m glad we made it here,” she whispered. She meant ‘here’ as in a place where she didn’t feel so alone. A place that felt nearly happy instead. She still had her arms wrapped around him, but she loosened her grip to pull her arm out from under him. He shifted onto his back so that she could lay her head on his chest.

“Me too,” he replied softly. As his lips pressed against her forehead for a gentle kiss, she figured that if anyone could understand her, it would be him. His strong arms wrapped around her, and he felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

> I made up the Butters family, but the locations are based off of the real towns of [Shasta](http://californiathroughmylens.com/shasta-state-park-ghost-town) and [Kennett](http://ghostlakes.blogspot.com/2012/02/kennett-ca-boomtown-sunk.html).
> 
> Here is [the tumblr post](http://impalachick.tumblr.com/post/176670434368/lydia-told-her-she-wasnt-going-to-escape-the) in case you would like to reblog. Comments, concrit, and kudos are appreciated!


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